


Trouble in a Skort

by ryry_peaches



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Sex Blooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryry_peaches/pseuds/ryry_peaches
Summary: Patrick tries to have a fun time with David in his Rick Owens slit skirt, and it...does not go as planned.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 6
Kudos: 156





	Trouble in a Skort

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a tumblr conversation, which was inspired by David's RIDICULOUS skort in The Pitch. No spoilers. This is the lightest E rating in the whole entire world, there's not even actual sex in this fic, and I'm still blushing.

Patrick likes David's skirts. 

The first time he saw David in a skirt, he was thrown, he'll admit it. Not by men in skirts, but by David in a skirt. David swishing around, all those miles of pleated material falling elegantly around his hips, his thighs — it had been a conservative design, even, some kind of faux-kilt that fell past his knees. He'd been wearing knee socks and boots that looked like Docs but were probably not — 

He'd been at a total loss. David with his height and his jawline and his not-insignificant body hair (God, Patrick actually liked that so much) and this — just, Patrick had never known anyone in real life who could do that, wear what he wanted and be loud and big and not apologize to anyone. 

And the first time he'd gotten David in bed with a skirt on had been a fucking revelation. He'd crawled up under David's skirt, letting the fabric fall over him, around his head and shoulders like a veil, and just really gone for it. David hadn't been able to grab him, had settled for tangling his fingers in the sheets and bucking up and Patrick had never known he could enjoy giving head, but he never stopped learning from David. 

\- 

All day Patrick has been staring at David's skirt. He can't help it — it's torn and asymmetrical and it has a slit so high, right up the middle, right in the front, and the slit is making Patrick think all kinds of terrible, nasty things, bordering on nonsensical. He wants to ruin that skirt, and he wants to ruin David in the skirt, and he wants to do it now. 

David doesn't even know that he's driving Patrick up the fucking wall; he has a face he makes when he's doing it on purpose, when he's dressed specifically to make Patrick crazy (those acid wash jeans that just…and the leather jacket that he brings out when he wants to act slutty…) and today he hasn't made that face, hasn't looked at Patrick all heated and dark, smirking and teasing. 

Patrick is supposed to be restocking rose toner and tea tree oil moisturizer; he's got the boxes out in front of him, he's standing at that shelf, but all he can't tear his eyes away from David, where he's walking a harried-looking young mom through the aromatherapy values of different bath bombs. His hands are flying about, and the toddler balanced on the woman's hip is entranced by them, which is a feeling Patrick understands completely. David never stops moving even when he's standing still. 

The mom is the only customer they have at four o'clock on a Wednesday, and as soon as she's out the door with three bath bombs, a candle, and a bottle of hand lotion, Patrick flips the sign and throws the lock behind her. 

"Patrick?" David is behind him, and when he turns it's worse than he expected — David is wearing a sweatshirt that probably cost more than Patrick's entire wardrobe and looks like it could be from TJ Maxx, and his high tops, and he's got his hands on his hips, and Patrick wants so badly to bite him. 

"Come on," he growls, and crowds David, pushing him towards the back room. "Come on, David, do you even know what you're doing to me?" 

David looks at him with raised eyebrows, surprised but not displeased. "I'm sorry, am I doing something to you?" 

"David —" Patrick shoves at his shoulders and David willingly flops backwards onto the couch, sitting and smiling at Patrick like he has all the time in the world. Patrick looms, leans over him, brackets him in. "Come on, look at you." He leans in even closer, grazes his teeth along David's earlobe, and David shudders, making his patented Turned On Face. "I'm gonna suck you, and I'm gonna take my time about it," he warns, "and you're gonna keep your hands to yourself and keep still. Yeah?" 

"Yeah, mhmm." David nods rapidly, inhaling sharply. 

Patrick bites David on the neck, a quick sharp nip, and then drops to his knees and pushes David's knees as far apart as the skirt will let them go — it's not very far, but it's enough for Patrick to get between. "Look at this," he says, picking at the place where the slit meets and glaring up at David. "This is fucking indecent, look at you." 

David tips his head back and sighs. "Yeah." 

Patrick runs his hands up David's thighs like he's done…just so many times, over his bike shorts — which David does, in fact, wear under some of his more risque skirts, just to be extra cautious on the front of accidental flashing — seeking out the waistband so he can tug them down. 

He doesn't find it. 

Okay, no waistband, that's — maybe the waistband of the shorts is higher up than the waistband of the skirt? That's possible. He goes for it again, and — there's an inner seam? His fingertips are hitting a definite fabric barrier. "Hey, David?" 

"Um." David peers down at him. "Problem down there?" 

"Not on my end." Patrick tries not to glare at him, but — what is going on? "Is, um. Is your skirt…sewn to your shorts?" 

"Um…" David drops his head into his hands. "Oh my God." 

"David?" 

David peeks out from between his fingers. "Um. I might be. Uh. Wearing a skort?" 

Patrick blanks for a second. "A skort?" 

"Yeah, you know, the skirt has shorts attached, on the inside, like…" 

"Like little kids in Catholic school wear? A skort?" 

"Okay," David says defensively. "The slit on this is really high, and —" 

"David, I can't suck your dick while you're wearing a skort. Like, it's physically not possible." 

"Would it help if I told you this is not the first time I've been cockblocked by this exact skort?" 

Patrick pulls back and glares at him for real. "Why would they make something so sexy and yet so sex-unfriendly?" 

"Ask Rick Owens?" David slumps. "I mean, I can take it off —" 

"No, nope." Patrick stands. "The moment has passed." 

"I mean, I'm —" 

"Nope!" Patrick smacks David on the thigh, then grabs his hand and pulls him off the couch. "We're going home." 

"Where we'll —" 

"Nope!" 

"But maybe, though?" David pulls his hand. 

"Okay, David, maybe." And David's laugh follows him out of the store.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at my main @fourgetregret and my Schitt blog, @loveburnsbrighter.


End file.
